Princess of Darkness
by The Writer II
Summary: Ruthie Camden may have finally met her match. And not in the romantic sense.
1. Mean Girls

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

_What happens when Ruthie meets someone who might just be as diabolical as she is?_

**

* * *

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**RATED PG-13 because of references to homosexuality that, surprisingly, does not involve Simon. By the way, I don't own 7th Heaven or the worldview of the Camden Clan.**

* * *

Oatmeal.  
  
Thick. Slimy. Covering every single inch off Ruthie Camden's shaking frame.  
  
She was angry. Furious.  
  
She had been humiliated in front of the entire school.  
  
And now, here she stood, standing in front of the mirror in the boys' bathroom, pondering just what revenge would be sweet enough to satisfy her thirst for vengeance.  
  
How had this happened? Who was the culprit?  
  
It was the new girl in school. Jenna Livingston. Or, as Ruthie now referred to her, 'dead meat'.  
  
Jenna hadn't been in school long, but she already had a reputation for being a troublemaker. Ruthie had known this before the oatmeal incident. In fact, Jenna's reputation was part of the reason Ruthie tried to befriend her when she first moved in.  
  
Someone like Jenna would be a nice acquisition to Ruthie. She regularly imagined the trouble she could make with a partner-in-crime.  
  
Ruthie was rejected when she tried to befriend Jenna. This didn't sit well with the Camden girl, and she soon after began to search for deep, dark, nasty secrets to spread about Jenna and her family.  
  
When she could find none, she became frustrated.  
  
And when she opened her locker that fateful Wednesday morning, only for a tub of cold, clammy oatmeal to fall onto her, she became incensed.  
  
She had been so humiliated that, against her better judgment, she decided to run into the girls' room for sanctuary. Unfortunately for her, she could barely see because of the oatmeal that covered her face, and she ran into the boys' bathroom instead.  
  
And that was where she stood, presently.  
  
Steaming.  
  
Embarrassed.  
  
Livid.  
  
Jenna would pay.  
  
If Ruthie could find nothing scandalous about Jenna or her family, she would make something up. Something outrageous. Something sensational. Something so shocking, nobody in the neighborhood would ever look at the Livingston's the same way again, even if they found out it was a lie.  
  
How would she do this?  
  
Ruthie began to ponder this, hours later, as she sat in the Camden home 'watching' Sam and David.  
  
The wheels in her head began to turn. What could possibly shock a town like Glenoak? A town that had been through an amazingly large amount of controversies? A town that would seemingly be so jaded that nothing—NOTHING—could shock them any longer.  
  
Everything had happened to Glenoak.  
  
Everything. Except, that is...  
  
A light bulb clicked on in Ruthie's head. She had an idea.  
  
And boy, was it a great idea.  
  
If there was one thing Ruthie was almost positive Glenoak had never dealt with, it was the big 'H'. Homosexuality.  
  
Granted, some in the neighborhood tended to raise their eyebrows at Simon, but that was just speculation. There was no actual rumor spread about Simon. And even if there was, Eric and Annie would nip it in the bud instantaneously. The Camdens were, in a word, untouchable. The only Camden who ever really attracted the ire of Glenoak was Mary.  
  
But I digress.  
  
The town had a tendency to resemble a lynch mob at times, and Ruthie was certain that 'mob' mentality would take shape if anyone in Glenoak knew of a single person within a thirty mile radius who happened to be even thinking of a same-sex relationship.  
  
Ruthie rubbed her hands together and cackled slightly.  
  
Jenna would pay.  
  
Jenna would definitely pay.

* * *

Ruthie peeled a dried piece of oatmeal off of her ear.  
  
It was late. Almost eleven.  
  
Ruthie was lying in bed, plotting how she would get the rumor mill started.  
  
She pondered for barely a minute before she realized she could just tell her father, and it would end up all over Glenoak by the next morning.  
  
It may have been eleven, but Ruthie couldn't wait.  
  
She was thirsting for revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.  
  
Even though it may not have seemed that way sometimes, Ruthie was a very good actress. She acted many of her emotions. Snap a finger, and she could go from joy to sadness and back again seamlessly.  
  
She slipped into 'worried, sleepless' mode and began to walk downstairs. She had a hunch that her father would be sitting in the den, going over whatever it was that interested him. Her hunch was right.  
  
"Ruthie? What are you doing up so late?"  
  
Ruthie expressed her concerns to her father.  
  
Eric watched his daughter intently as she described how... _different_... Jenna was. How Jenna wore her hair short and spiked, about how Jenna hated boys, about how Jenna idolized Ellen Degeneres... of course, hardly any of this was true.  
  
The only thing Ruthie really knew about Jenna—besides the fact she was a troublemaker—was that she really, really hated her.  
  
After Ruthie finished mentioning all the terrible things Jenna was into, she decided to tell her father about the 'terrible looks' Jenna would give the other girls.  
  
For instance, about how 'she look[ed] at [her] with that sick look in her eye.' Or about how 'she stares at [her and her classmates] in the locker room.' About how 'sick and dirty it ma[de] [her] feel.'  
  
Eric, of course, was sickened. He bought every single word of what his daughter was saying. He was angry.  
  
And when a tear slipped from his daughter's eye, he became furious.  
  
Of course, Eric's rage didn't show outwardly.  
  
Outwardly, he was compassionate and sympathetic.  
  
Outwardly, he held his youngest daughter as she wept, letting her know that she should never feel sick or dirty or anything like that. He stroked her hair and comforted her, while she smiled inwardly.  
  
Her plan was in action, and soon Jenna would be no more.

* * *

It was immediate and sweeping.  
  
A powerful blow.  
  
Within days, the entire neighborhood was talking about Jenna Livingston.  
  
People would call her names. The Livingston's were receiving threatening phone calls. Everyone looked at them with that suspicious eye.  
  
People were disgusted by them. The very idea of homosexuality in _Glenoak _was enough to make residents spastically vomit.  
  
That Sunday, Eric Camden's sermon was about sin. Terrible, taboo sins. Sins were like sickness. People had to be cured of them.  
  
And Eric offered to cure Jenna. He hated this girl, yet he was a minister, and he knew what he had to do. Jenna had looked at his daughter in an oh-so- sinful way, and she needed to be cured immediately.  
  
The Livingston's declined Eric's offer. They knew full well that their daughter was not gay—not that there was anything wrong with it—and they weren't even going to dignify the thought that she was.  
  
The declination of the Livingston's did not help relations between the family and the town. One way or another, people would find out that Joe and Theda Livingston rejected the offer of help from the local minister.  
  
Maybe Eric would tell Annie in bed. Maybe one of the several people living in the Camden house would overhear. Then it would begin to spread. The Camden family was involved directly or indirectly with _every single function_ of the town, be it the police department, fire department, or the school system. Eric could mutter something to his wife while on the edge of sleep, and it would end up plastered on the front page of the newspaper the next morning.  
  
So it was fairly obvious that the Livingston's denial of Eric's help would be big news. Refusing the local minister's aid? People simply did not do this in Glenoak.  
  
Once this bit of information spread across the town, the Livingston's were ostracized even more.  
  
By the next Wednesday, seven days after the oatmeal incident, Ruthie Camden had successfully turned the tables.  
  
Jenna Livingston was miserable. She was being threatened. Called names. Insulted. School was virtually unbearable. Jenna knew who had done this to her.  
  
_Ruthie_.  
  
By just looking at the Camden spawn, Jenna could tell. This was Ruthie's version of revenge. Spread lies. Terrible lies. Psychological warfare.  
  
Well, Jenna Livingston could play this game.  
  
She could play it very well.  
  
Jenna Livingston was well skilled in this game. Jenna could make up lies. Jenna could spread rumors. Of course, nobody would listen to a single word she ever had to say. However, that didn't mean Jenna couldn't be an anonymous source of information.  
  
It was just after school. Ruthie was washing her hands in the girls' washroom when Jenna burst in. Jenna had been following Ruthie and, after making sure she was alone with her, approached the enemy.  
  
"Camden."  
  
"Livingston."  
  
"I know it was you. I know you started those rumors about me. You have the whole town against me. Against my family. I've been getting death threats."  
  
Ruthie dried her hands.  
  
"Aww. I really feel sorry for you." Ruthie started to walk by Jenna, but was stopped.  
  
"You're not leaving this room."  
  
"I'll cry rape. I'm serious. And if you don't think they'll believe me, then—"  
  
"What drives someone like you, huh?"  
  
"What drives someone like you? I didn't do anything to you and I ended up covered in oatmeal in front of the entire school. You should be careful who you mess with. _Dyke_." Ruthie giggled at the slur, attracting the ire of Jenna.  
  
Jenna pushed Ruthie up against the wall.  
  
"Don't call me that again."  
  
"You do know, Livingston, that someone could walk into this room right now. You're not exactly a well-liked person, Jenna."  
  
Jenna didn't have time to respond. Little Yasmin took that moment to enter the restroom.  
  
Before Jenna could do anything, Ruthie planted her lips on Jenna's mouth and threw herself to the ground.  
  
"She kissed me!" Ruthie wailed, in distress. "Oh God! She kissed me!"  
  
"What? I did not! I—"  
  
A concerned adult entered the room to see what was going on.  
  
"What's happening in here?"  
  
The adult, who shall remain unnamed, glanced from Ruthie to Jenna to Yasmin, searching for some kind of answer.  
  
"She kissed me!" Ruthie wailed. "Jenna Livingston kissed me! I'm going to be sick!"  
  
Quickly the 'concerned adult' ran over to Ruthie and helped her up off of the ground.  
  
"I didn't kiss her! I didn't kiss her!" Jenna turned to Yasmin. "You! Muslim girl! You saw it, didn't you? I didn't kiss her! She kissed me!"  
  
Yasmin, shocked and confused about the whole thing, refused to comment. She stood there, with a stunned-yet-intrigued look on her face.  
  
"Don't speak, Jenna." The teacher commanded. Quickly, the teacher led Ruthie into a stall where the 'traumatized girl' could throw up.  
  
Jenna couldn't believe this. She turned to Yasmin.  
  
"You have to tell her! She kissed me! She did! Didn't you see it?"  
  
Yasmin gave Jenna a nasty look that said, more than anything else, 'you disgust me'.  
  
The teacher led Ruthie out of the stall and glared at Jenna.  
  
"Jenna, come with me. You too, Jasmine."  
  
"It's Yasmin, ma'am..." Yasmin said, meekly, as the three girls went with the teacher to the principal's office.  
  
From there, things didn't go well for Jenna. Yasmin told the principal she saw Jenna kissing Ruthie. Ruthie told her sob story. Jenna was suspended for five days.

* * *

By this time, Jenna Livingston and her family were not only ostracized, but openly _hated_. The Livingston's couldn't go to the grocery store, the Laundromat, or anywhere else for that matter. Leaving the house meant confronting the lynch mob that had grown by several numbers.  
  
Meanwhile, the Camdens were all being extra nice to Ruthie, considering her ordeal. Ruthie, of course, didn't mind. In fact, she rather enjoyed this treatment. She was virtually on top of the world. Jenna was crushed and she was been treated very well at home. Things had gone quite well for Ruthie Camden.

* * *

When Jenna Livingston returned to school the next Thursday, she knew things would be rough. Parents had been sent letters, warning them to let their children know that violence wasn't the answer to anything.  
  
Whether or not the parents heeded the letters was unknown to Jenna, who walked the halls, trying to avoid the glares of the students.  
  
Jenna had been busy over the past seven days. Pondering revenge. Pondering some kind of absolute retribution. How would she get it, though? How would she possibly pay back Ruthie Camden?  
  
Was it _possible_?  
  
_Could_ she get revenge?  
  
As Jenna entered her classroom, it hit her. It hit her like a ton of bricks.  
  
Jenna knew what to do.  
  
_Jenna knew what to do._  
  
It was such a brilliant plan; she had to smother the scream of '_eureka!'_ that threatened to explode from her mouth.  
  
Jenna could barely stay still during school, just thinking about her dastardly plot.  
  
It was so brilliant. So exceptional. So foolproof.  
  
Jenna remembered when Ruthie's father offered to counsel her. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe if Jenna assimilated herself into the Camden family, she could begin to... single-handedly tear them apart.  
  
After school that day, Jenna walked to the church. She knew this was a dangerous thing to try, considering all the enemies she'd made in the past two weeks. However, she carried with her a can of mace, something men in Glenoak had likely never seen. Mace was a dangerous weapon.  
  
Jenna, luckily for her, arrived at the church without incident.  
  
She asked around for where she could find Reverend Camden, and had no trouble at all located the patriarch of the family she wished to destroy.  
  
"Reverend?" She asked, watching as Eric Camden looked up with surprise.  
  
"Jenna Livingston."  
  
From there, it began. Jenna opened up about her 'sexuality', seeking 'guidance' and 'help' from Reverend Camden. Eric, of course, did what he could to steer Jenna on the 'path to righteousness' and away from the 'path to destruction'.  
  
This went on for an hour.  
  
At the end of the 'session', Jenna decided to ask for a favor.  
  
"Reverend Camden, you've helped me so much. Soon, I hope I'll be able to be a good, holy Christian again. But..."  
  
"But what, Jenna?"  
  
"But I wish I could spend some more time with people like you. I want to know how I should be. I want to... spend time with your family, Reverend."  
  
"Spend time with my family?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I want to be a better person, and—from what I've heard—there's no family in Glenoak better than yours."  
  
"What a flattering comment, Jenna. I certainly wouldn't mind if you joined the Camden's for dinner some day in the future."  
  
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear, sir! How soon?"  
  
"You'll have to ask your parents first."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I suppose you could join us for Sunday dinner. You should invite your parents as well. Maybe our families can get off to the right foot." Eric said the last sentence more to himself than to Jenna. It sounded like a good idea to him.  
  
_But how would Ruthie take it?_ He wondered. _Well... I've always taught forgiveness... if I've done my job, then Ruthie should be okay with the whole situation.  
_  
Eric nodded to himself, silently hoping this was the case..  
  
Sunday dinner, pending the decision of Jenna's parents, was on.  
  
And Jenna never had problems manipulating her mother and father.

* * *

Eric Camden walked into his youngest daughter's room that night. Ruthie had been working on her homework, but put it away as soon as she saw her father enter.  
  
"Ruthie... we need to talk."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Ruthie made room for Eric on the bed. He sat next to his daughter and laid out the situation.  
  
"I invited Jenna Livingston over for Sunday dinner, Ruthie. Are you... going to be okay with that?"  
  
Ruthie was genuinely surprised. Quickly, though, she took charge of the situation. She played it _cool_. Ideas were already formulating in her mind about how to destroy Jenna in front of the entire Camden clan.  
  
"I... I guess... God always said forgive, right?"  
  
"Yes. I'm proud of you, Ruthie." Now Ruthie was extremely surprised. "I expected you to react differently to this."  
  
Eric smiled warmly at his daughter, who returned the favor. Of course, there were no warm feelings in Ruthie Camden.  
  
She was intrigued—and not in a good way—about Jenna's upcoming visit to the Camden household.  
  
What was she trying to do?  
  
Ruthie thought about this for a while. She couldn't think of any plot Jenna might conceive. However, she knew her enemy was going to try something. Whatever it was, however, Ruthie knew she would be ready for it.

* * *

Ruthie and Jenna shared the same dining room that Sunday evening. Jenna had very easily convinced her parents to eat at the Camden's, while Ruthie had been concocting a battle plan to defeat whatever was thrown at her.  
  
Things stayed strangely calm throughout the dinner.  
  
Ruthie eyed Jenna, barely blinking, making sure her adversary wasn't trying anything. Jenna was very personable to the Camdens—except for Ruthie, of course—and 'charming'. Of course, this was all an act. Jenna hated the Camdens simply for having the same DNA as Ruthie did.  
  
Jenna explained her story to the family, about how she had been corrupted by shows like '_Ellen_' and '_The Ellen Show'_, not to mention '_The Ellen Degeneres Show'_. Terrible programs, these were, to the Camdens. It was no wonder Jenna had taken a turn for the worse.  
  
"I'm starting to get better now, though. And it's all thanks to Reverend Camden." Jenna smiled. It was a 'warm moment'. Ruthie was not happy about this. Jenna had taken a bad situation and turned it around.  
  
Now, she was some sort of _admirable little girl_, recovering from a great evil.  
  
Jenna was smart. Ruthie knew it.  
  
Ruthie just didn't know how smart Jenna was. 


	2. Docudrama

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**(Chapter II)**

* * *

**Things either get interesting or ridiculous, it depends on how you look at it. I don't and _wouldn't want_ to own the Camdens. Believe me.**

**(By the way, this really isn't meant to be _that_ realistic. Remember, most little girls _aren't _psychopaths.)**

* * *

It was several days after the Sunday dinner.  
  
Word was beginning to spread that Jenna was '_getting better'_.  
  
One or two people at school gave her encouraging comments.  
  
Ruthie didn't like this at all.  
  
How had Jenna managed to turn the whole situation around? She wondered.  
  
She had no time to figure out the answer.  
  
Instead, she wondered what terrible lie she could spread next. She just wasn't going to let Jenna coast through the rest of the school year. Ruthie wanted Jenna to suffer. She was still picking oatmeal out of her hair.  
  
So, Ruthie began to think. What would be bad enough to get everyone back on the 'Jenna hate' bandwagon?  
  
Ruthie suddenly had an idea.  
  
It wasn't as_ shocking_ as homosexuality, but it certainly would make Jenna look like a vile little creature.  
  
After school, that Friday, Ruthie Camden called her father and virtually begged him to invite Jenna over to dinner.  
  
She sounded convincing. Of course, Ruthie didn't need to give much effort to sound convincing. Her family was very gullible, especially her father.  
  
Eric did as he was commanded by his daughter, and invited the Livingston's over for another Sunday dinner. Jenna made sure her parents accepted.  
  
The posturing between the two fourteen-year-old girls was unbelievable.  
  
Both of them had plans.  
  
Both of them wanted to destroy the other.  
  
One of them would succeed.

* * *

On the Sunday of the second Livingston-Camden dinner, Ruthie Camden grabbed two kitchen gloves, slipped them on her hands, and snuck into her parents' room.  
  
Eric and Annie, along with the rest of the family, were at church.  
  
Ruthie feigned illness, so the Camden clan left her alone with the very responsible Martin, who was under the impression that Ruthie was asleep in her room.  
  
Whilst in the master bedroom, Ruthie opened her mother's jewelry box, grabbed her mother's necklace, and slipped it into the pocket of her nightgown.  
  
Part one of her plan was complete.  
  
All that was left was to plant the necklace on Jenna when she arrived hours later.  
  
Ruthie was satisfied with herself.  
  
Not only that, but she would get a few extra hours of deserved sleep because of her 'fever'. (_How did Ruthie manage to trick her parents into thinking she was sick? Well, explaining that would be so complicated, it would take up another story entirely. Let's just say it involved a baseball bat and a dog_.)  
  
Ruthie was extremely resourceful.  
  
By the time she woke up, it was three in the afternoon and she felt as awake as she had felt in quite some time. It was rare Ruthie ever got more than five hours of sleep per night. She so much of her time _pondering_ in bed, that by the time she ever got around to sleeping, it was well past twelve-thirty.  
  
Ruthie would play the rest of the day as if she was getting better, but still slightly sick. That way, it wouldn't seem to unrealistic for her to get better, yet she would still be allowed to participate in dinner just long enough to leave a little present for Jenna.

* * *

Jenna, meanwhile, had a plan that would require the perfect execution. The timing _had_ to be right. The acting _had _to be right. Everything had to be right. And if it wasn't, she would end up failing miserably.  
  
But Jenna was confident.  
  
She knew what she was doing.  
  
In her previous visit to _Casa del Camden_, Jenna noticed an entrance to the attic. Jenna needed to get into that attic. She had a feeling. A feeling that there were things in there that no Camden wanted anyone else to see.  
  
Maybe she would find Joy Enriquez, bound, gagged, and begging for food. Or maybe she would find incriminating documents, linking the Camdens to some sort of unholy crime that would turn them into instant pariahs.  
  
Or maybe, just maybe... she could ruin Ruthie Camden's life.  
  
She didn't hate the Camdens as a whole as much as _she hated Ruthie_.  
  
More than anything, she wanted Ruthie to suffer.  
  
To really, really suffer.  
  
Jenna rubbed her hands together at the very thought of Ruthie Camden suffering. She needed it to happen. She_ thirsted_ for it.  
  
The question was, how would she get into the attic?  
  
Jenna pondered this.  
  
It would seem impossible.  
  
That is, until a light bulb went off in her head. She knew what to do.  
  
She knew how to do it.  
  
She would get in that attic.  
  
Do some searching.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, she would get some sweet, sweet, cold revenge.

* * *

That evening, the supposedly sick Ruthie Camden told her father she was well enough to stay downstairs 'just for a little while'. Meanwhile, Jenna Livingston perfected her plan. Both plans were fool proof.  
  
Jenna and family arrived at the Camden household.  
  
Eric welcomed them in. Ruthie was right behind him, dressed up for Sunday, while still maintaining an air of sickness. The occasional sneeze or cough certainly made the Livingston's aware that... Ruthie Camden was not well.  
  
Meanwhile, Jenna was very polite to the Camdens. During the week, she met with Eric again. Of course, Ruthie didn't know this, and was surprised to hear it. It ruffled her feathers a bit, but she didn't mind.  
  
Ruthie extended her arms to Jenna, offering to give her a hug. Of course, Jenna couldn't refuse. It certainly wouldn't _look_ good. So, the two archenemies hugged, and mid-embrace, Ruthie discreetly dropped the necklace she had been clutching in her fist into Jenna's pocket.  
  
Jenna and Ruthie broke apart. Before Ruthie could sit down, Jenna reached into her pocket, pulled out the necklace, and said (while extending her arm to Eric):  
  
"Could you give this back to Ruthie for me, sir?"  
  
Eric took the necklace, examined it, and realized that the necklace belonged to his wife.  
  
"This is Annie's. Where did you get this?"  
  
"It must have dropped out of Ruthie's pocket when she hugged me."  
  
"I see. What were you doing with it, Ruthie?"  
  
Ruthie hadn't been expecting _this_. Then again, this hadn't been her best thought out scheme. Ruthie merely sneezed and coughed violently, convincing her father she needed to be taken back to bed.  
  
Of course, Ruthie would not sleep. She had ways of watching and/or listening to people when they least expected it. And, even though the youngest Camden daughter was upstairs in her room, she could still hear everything being said from the dinner table, thanks to impeccable hearing and a floor vent.  
  
Jenna was putting on a complete act with the Camdens and Ruthie knew it. Granted, she was acting for a considerably smaller audience than the week before. The week before included Lucy, Kevin, Cecilia, Martin, and many other people who weren't blood relatives to the Camdens. This week, only Eric and Annie sat at the table with the Livingston's.  
  
They listened as Jenna described her ordeal as a lesbian; she lamented how much time she wasted lusting over women when she could have easily been proposing marriage to men.  
  
Ruthie grudgingly admired Jenna. She was a formidable foe. And Ruthie needed one to keep from being bored. Fighting with Jenna was certainly more fun than exposing the secrets of her own family.  
  
"Reverend Camden," Jenna began from downstairs, "I would love to pay you back for all you've done for me. Is there anything I could do?"  
  
"Oh, Jenna, there's—"  
  
"I could clean your garage. No, your attic. I could clean your attic."  
  
"Jenna—"  
  
"I would love to do it, sir."  
  
"Why not, Eric?" Annie asked. "It would be nice to have _someone _help out around the house."  
  
"Hmm. Well, Jenna, are you sure you'd like to—"  
  
"Of course, sir! It's the least I can do."  
  
Ruthie didn't like the sound of this. Jenna had something planned. There were things in the attic. Ruthie was _sure _of it. She hadn't spent much time up there herself, but she was almost _positive_ that there was concrete blackmail material up there.  
  
"When would you like to do it, Jenna?"  
  
"Oh, whenever's best for you, sir."  
  
"How about next Saturday?"  
  
Saturday, Ruthie thought. Saturday was several days away. Ruthie had time. Time to search through that mess and hide anything incriminating or damaging.  
  
Ruthie nodded to herself. Jenna was smart. But not smart enough to outsmart Ruthie Camden.  
  
"Next Saturday? Sure, sir. It'll be a privilege."  
  
Eric smiled. Jenna was such a wonderful person. It was a good thing he saved her from the depths of homosexuality.

* * *

It was really late. Or really early. It depends on how you want to put it.  
  
Three in the morning.  
  
Ruthie was, and she didn't want to admit it, nervous.  
  
Jenna was _interesting_. And not a good interesting. Usually, people left Ruthie alone after she tore them down a peg or two. But Jenna?  
  
Jenna was fighting back.  
  
Of course, Ruthie knew she could easily thwart any dastardly plot Jenna had planned. That didn't mean she wasn't unsettled about the whole situation.  
  
By the middle of the week, Ruthie was up in the attic (to the knowledge of nobody), searching through boxes, putting all the possible dangerous material she could find.  
  
Anything that could remotely harm the Camdens was put inside a special folder Ruthie brought with her.  
  
It took her two hours, but Ruthie had successfully hidden all the damaging _Camdocuments_ and put them away in her special folder. And then, just for extra security, she hid the folder in a shoebox and then hid the shoebox under a loose floorboard in her room.  
  
Once the danger of Jenna passed, Ruthie planned to put the papers back where she found them. Besides, nobody would notice that they were gone anyway.  
  
Ruthie was several steps ahead of Jenna and she knew it.  
  
She left _no stone_ upturned in that attic. There was no way Jenna would find _anything _up there.  
  
Or so she thought.

* * *

Days passed and the rivalry between Jenna and Ruthie was slightly dormant.  
  
There was rest until Saturday. Everything was waiting for Saturday.  
  
And when Saturday came, both Jenna and Ruthie were ready.  
  
Jenna arrived at the Camden home at two in the afternoon. After the obligatory 'hello's and 'good afternoon's, Jenna walked upstairs into the attic.  
  
Ruthie watched her intensely.  
  
Deep down inside, Ruthie knew it was awfully stupid of her parents to let Jenna clean the attic in the first place. Eric and Annie didn't know Jenna that well. How could they let her into their house unsupervised?  
  
Then again. They had a reputation for doing this.  
  
Ruthie slapped mayo on a piece of bread and sat down with the Bible.  
  
It was a good read for a lazy Saturday afternoon.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the attic, Jenna Livingston angrily searched through the boxes and folders, unable to find much of what she wanted.  
  
That is... until she found **It**.  
  
Not the clown from the horror movie.  
  
This was a different kind of **It**. Capitalized to emphasize its importance.  
  
**It** was in a taped shut folder that Jenna had rudely ripped open. Inside were several papers, some yellow, some yellowed, obviously several years old. Among the papers was the biggest document Jenna could have _possibly_ found.

This was a lucky find. A _very_ lucky find. A-Derek-Fisher-four-tenths-of-a-second-game-winning-shot kind of lucky. A Vlade-Divac-tips-the-ball-out-to-Robert-Horry-for-the-game-winning-three kind of lucky.

(A/N: Ahh. Damn the Lakers.)

Jenna was thrilled.

**It** was so scandalous, so shocking, so unexpected... Not only would Ruthie be shocked, but half of Glenoak as well.

**It **would tear her apart. Jenna was sure of that. (And if it didn't, then Ruthie was a very different kind of animal, not to be messed with.)

But Jenna was fine with that.  
  
She wanted that.  
  
Jenna pocketed the entire folder, trembling with an immoral joy, wondering to herself exactly in what fashion she could use her newfound knowledge.  
  
Jenna wanted this news to be plastered all over the city. The town. The _state_. Jenna wanted the world to know, wanted every single human being to have their own personal copy of **It**.  
  
She cackled with excitement. Shook with anticipation. Quickly, she 'tidied up' the rest of the attic. She had what she needed and she wanted to leave as soon as possible.


	3. Chapter III

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**(PART III)**

* * *

**Secrets come out in this chapter. Most of you probably already have a good idea of what's going to happen, but try to be surprised anyway.**

* * *

Jenna Livingston left the Camden household.  
  
She was off to the library to copy a certain little paper.  
  
A certain little paper that would certainly crush her opposition into complete and total submission.  
  
Well... that's what Jenna thought, anyway.  
  
Jenna arrived at the library with a fresh, crisp, five-dollar bill in her pocket _(from Mr. Camden, of course. Truth was, that he was a cheapskate, but let's not go into that right now)._  
  
Jenna got change for her five dollars and spent most of it making copies of the paper. Jenna had plans. She was going to have some fun. Jenna was very skilled in the fine art of cruelty, and she wanted to use her skills to the fullest.  
  
How, though?  
  
What method would be perfect enough? Perfect enough to completely destroy Ruthie?  
  
Jenna couldn't figure it out. It had to be just right. Jenna wanted to be there to see Ruthie's reaction. But _how_?  
  
She thought about this for a moment.  
  
Then it came to her. What better public humiliation than to spread copies of the paper all through school, only for Ruthie to come in and discover them?  
  
The look of horror would be priceless. Absolutely _priceless_.  
  
Jenna would have to arrive at school early, of course.  
  
That would be no problem at all.  
  
Plastering copies of the paper all over the hallway would be harder, though. Perhaps... perhaps... perhaps she could hand out copies of the paper to the students as they came in. Sadistic, maybe. Sadistic and satisfying. And then, she could hand one out to Ruthie. And watch her masterpiece take shape.  
  
Jenna laughed at the thought. She would have to find a way to bring a camera to school so she could capture the moment.

* * *

Sunday came. The Camdens and Livingston's were both at church. They sat in the same row, much to the dislike of Ruthie and Jenna who, incidentally, happened to be sitting together.  
  
It wasn't the best seating arrangement, that was for certain.  
  
The two girls traded nasty glances out of the corners of their eyes throughout the sermon, being delivered by Eric Camden.  
  
Eric invited the Livingston family to the church earlier in the week, wanting to continue the mending of bridges. In fact, the sermon that Sunday was all about friendship and the growth of relationships.  
  
Something was growing between Ruthie and Jenna.  
  
Extreme dislike and revulsion.  
  
Even as Ruthie and Jenna held hands during prayer, they eyed each other. Each girl half-expecting the other to pull the rug out from under her feet. Metaphorically, of course.  
  
After church, as the two families went their separate ways, Ruthie and Jenna made eye contact. Their looks contributed much, as each girl knew that the other was planning something. Of course, Ruthie wasn't planning anything at all. Jenna was just being extra suspicious and paranoid. Needless to say, this was understandable when dealing with Ruthie Camden.

* * *

Monday rolled around.  
  
Ruthie Camden woke up after a fitful sleep. She got only two hours sleep and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed.  
  
This was odd for Ruthie. She may not have slept much, but she usually didn't have trouble sleeping.  
  
That morning, the youngest Camden daughter was driven to school by her parents, half-asleep from the lack of rest she had gotten.  
  
She wouldn't know what hit her.  
  
Or, at least, that was Jenna thought, as she passed out copies of Ruthie's _adoption papers_ to every passerby she could.  
  
Gleefully, she did this. She _enjoyed_ it. Of course, a lot of the students really didn't care that much one way or the other, but _(considering these were the Camdens, after all, and most of Glenoak revolved around them)_ this would soon become big news.  
  
People all over the town would know about this by week's—maybe even day's—end.  
  
And when Ruthie started her way down the hallway... that's when things became interesting.  
  
A smile grew on Jenna Livingston's fourteen-year-old face as she virtually skipped over to Ruthie.  
  
Ruthie, at this time, was confused. People were looking at her. They were looking at her like they knew something she didn't.  
  
Ruthie didn't like that feeling.  
  
Ruthie never _had_ that feeling before.  
  
It was strange. Odd.  
  
She looked around her. Why was Jenna smiling? Why were people looking at her? What did they all have in their hands?  
  
"Hello, Ruthie." Jenna said. _Much too chipper_, Ruthie thought. Jenna was a step ahead of her. Nobody had ever been a step ahead of Ruthie before. Ever. Nobody had even come close before.  
  
"I thought you might be interested by a certain something."  
  
Ruthie glared at Jenna and snatched the paper out of her hand. She read it once and showed no discernable emotion.  
  
Jenna was confused by this. She waited for some reaction by Ruthie. There was none. The entire hallway was waiting for the girl to do something. To cry, or to scream, or just to show some facial expression.  
  
Ruthie merely went about her business. She crumpled the paper in her fist and started to open her locker.  
  
Everyone watched in silence as Ruthie got out her books and walked into class.  
  
Jenna was disappointed. Stunned. _Shocked_. How could this have happened?  
  
Ruthie Camden just found out she was adopted and showed no emotion _whatsoever_. This was more that disappointing. This was crushing. Jenna was crushed. Sure, everyone knew Ruthie was adopted, but the real point of the whole thing was to tear her apart. And not only was she not torn apart, she didn't seem to care _one-way or the other_.  
  
**What was this madness?  
**  
Jenna sighed to herself and came to a realization. Ruthie was not normal. Not normal at all. No reaction? None? Jenna wanted screaming. Crying. Stunned shock. Jenna wanted Ruthie to break in half. Not only had Ruthie not broken in half, but now _Jenna_ was on the verge of tears. She got her hopes up, and ended up with them dashed.  
  
Ruthie won again.  
  
The rest of the day went pretty much the same. Ruthie brushed off the looks by her classmates and acted like there was nothing wrong. Jenna, meanwhile, couldn't believe what was going on.  
  
Either Ruthie was a great actress _(and Jenna just couldn't believe that)_ or she was a complete and total _sociopath_.  
  
After school, Jenna caught up with Ruthie. Jenna was letting her guard down.  
  
"What's your problem, Ruthie?"  
  
"Nice to see you too, Jenna."  
  
"You're adopted. Don't you care about that? At all?"  
  
Ruthie smiled sweetly at Jenna.  
  
"Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. You must still be in love with me if you're obsessing over me like this."  
  
Ruthie was more than ruffling Jenna's feathers. Jenna's feathers were a complete and total mess.  
  
"What do you mean '_in love with you'_? I was never _in love_ with you, you psycho witch! You're the one who kissed me. I remember that. And you did it so you could get me in trouble."  
  
Ruthie smiled and shook her head as if to say what an idiot Jenna was.  
  
"What are you shaking your head for?" Jenna asked. "You're a real psycho, you know that?"  
  
When Ruthie didn't respond, Jenna decided to go a bit further.  
  
"I bet your REAL parents were freaks too."  
  
Jenna expected Ruthie to blow up. To do _SOMETHING_.  
  
Nothing. Nothing at all. Ruthie merely shrugged.  
  
Ruthie's refusal to show even the slightest emotion to Jenna's prodding was slowly beginning to tear the Livingston Lass apart. Jenna _couldn't understand_ it. What was wrong with Ruthie Camden?  
  
Ruthie began to whistle the theme from '_Gilligan's Island'_. It was very appropriate, considering Jenna felt very, very lost.  
  
Jenna walked with Ruthie until the Camden girl returned home, poking and prodding, hoping for _SOME _kind of reaction. Some discernable emotion. By the end, Jenna was virtually begging for Ruthie to do something. To expose some weakness that could be taken advantage of.  
  
Ruthie wouldn't budge. As she arrived in her front yard, she had to say:  
  
"Jenna, maybe you should go home. You don't look alright."  
  
Jenna screamed out of frustration. She quickly left the area. For she knew, if she stayed around Ruthie Camden for much longer, she would completely lose her mind.

* * *

Ruthie entered her house. She put down her backpack, took off her overcoat, and looked at the paper again. Then, she walked to the bathroom and threw up.

All in a day's work.


	4. Family Ties

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**(PART IV)**

* * *

**The plot thickens as the Camdens discover that Ruthie knows their little secret. By the way, a certain off-handed suggestion by Hoedogg on the Television Without Pity forums gave me an idea for this chapter. **

**Let's just say it's something Annie does that might give away where Ruthie got her psychotic tendencies from.**

* * *

Ruthie Camden's eyes were leaking. At first, she was scared by this, until she realized she was actually crying. She hadn't done this in a while.  
  
These were not sad tears, or weak tears.  
  
These were angry tears.  
  
Furious tears.  
  
She stood in the bathroom, the door locked, her emotions raw.  
  
She was angry. At herself, mostly. How could she, who knew everything about everyone, not know that she was adopted?  
  
She was also angry at the Camdens, Eric and Annie. How could they not tell her? And what about her brothers? Sisters? How could they not tell her?  
  
Hot tears streamed down her face. She had been crying for quite some time, just thinking about the very idea that someone would just... give her up. After all, that was what happened. She was given up. By someone.  
  
Someone, somewhere didn't want her.  
  
This very thought made her cry even harder, which made her even more ashamed of herself for letting her emotions take control so easily.  
  
Ruthie couldn't be beaten by her emotions. She couldn't. That would make her weak, and the last thing she wanted to be was weak.  
  
Several times, Annie Camden knocked on the bathroom door to make sure her daughter was okay. Several times, Ruthie would say she was alright.  
  
Ruthie didn't want to bring up the subject of her adoption. She didn't even want to think about it. Annie would find out soon enough. Glenoak was a small town. In the words of one wizened, old local, _"Someone could pass wind in his basement and people all over town would smell it."_ Crude, yes, but correct.  
  
At least one of the dozens of copies of adoption papers would end up in the Camden household. Ruthie knew that for a fact.  
  
Ruthie clenched her teeth and squeezed her fists till her knuckles went white, in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. She took a deep breath and washed her face profusely so her eyes wouldn't give away the fact that she had been crying. After that, she used her best acting skills and walked out of the bathroom as if everything was fine.  
  
She had the adoption paper in her pocket as she walked upstairs. Annie called her from downstairs and wanted her to watch the twins as she did her homework. Of course, Ruthie agreed. Saying no to Annie Camden could be _quite_ an adventure.  
  
As Ruthie watched Sam and David, she couldn't help but remember when Annie gave birth to them.  
  
Ruthie remembered being shown pictures of Annie being pregnant with her. How could that have been possible?  
  
Then it occurred to her. What if the adoption paper was fake?  
  
What if it was all a lie?  
  
What if Jenna was just trying to get under her skin?  
  
Then again... _what if Annie lied to her that day_?  
  
No. Impossible.  
  
Ruthie looked at the paper again. It was crumpled, wrinkled, and Ruthie couldn't tell if it was fake or not. It looked official, but who knew what kind of technology Jenna had?  
  
Before Ruthie could speculate any more, she heard Lucy enter the house downstairs. Ruthie was able to hear most of the conversation.  
  
Lucy found out about the situation at school. She wanted to know if Ruthie knew about it.  
  
_(Rather dumb question to ask, considering Lucy told Annie a few moments before that 'that Jenna girl was passing out copies of Ruthie's adoption papers at school. The whole student body knows. The teachers, the faculty... everybody.'  
  
To then ask the question 'do you think Ruthie found out?' then becomes a rather pointless and ridiculous endeavor. But then again, this is Lucy we're talking about)_  
  
So then, it was true.  
  
Lucy knew. This was obvious. And if Lucy knew, then Matt and Mary did too. And if Matt and Mary knew, then Simon probably knew. All of her siblings knew. Her parents, obviously, knew as well. And they had all been lying to her for her entire life.  
  
Naturally, this revolted Ruthie. Especially considering the fact that Annie Camden lied to a young Ruthie after the birth of Sam and David. Especially considering that a young Ruthie was shown a picture of _"[her] inside [Annie's] tummy"_ when it was actually one of her siblings being housed in her mother's womb.  
  
Ruthie felt sick all over again. Sick and angry. She wasn't going to let her emotions beat her again, however. She once again called on her acting skills. This day, she would play a **Happy, Well-Adjusted Teen with a Family That Would Never Hide a Devastating Secret From Her For Fourteen Years**. The role would be tough, but she knew she could manage it.  
  
All talk downstairs turned into whispers.  
  
Obviously, Lucy and Annie were trying to figure out what to do.  
  
Ruthie heard someone pick up the phone. Impeccable hearing strikes again. The youngest Camdn...er... the _fourteen-year-old_ decided to listen in on the call. She picked up the phone in the next room (leaving Sam and David to their own devices) just in time to hear the start of the conversation.  
  
"Eric?" It was her mother's voice.  
  
"Annie. I was just going to call you." Eric's tone changed. "Hey... what are you wearing?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know... what are you wearing?" Eric asked, suggestively. Ruthie felt even sicker than before.  
  
"There's no time for that, Eric. She knows."  
  
"Who knows?"  
  
"Ruthie. She found out."  
  
"Found out..."  
  
"She found out she was..." Annie slipped into a whisper. "She found out she was adopted."  
  
"How does she... are you sure she..."  
  
"She hasn't been acting like it, but if I'm to believe Lucy, the whole neighborhood knows."  
  
Eric fell silent for several minutes.  
  
"Well, Eric? What do we do?"  
  
"Maybe... maybe she doesn't know."  
  
"Of course she knows. She has to know. Apparently, Jenna has been spreading copies throughout the town."  
  
"Jenna? Why... why would _Jenna_ do something like that?"  
  
"I don't know, Eric. You're the one that's been counseling her for the last three weeks. You're the one who let her and her... _heathen_ family into my house without even asking me."  
  
"This is no time for blame, Annie."  
  
"What do I do, Eric? What am I supposed to tell her?"  
  
"Don't... tell her anything. Wait till I get home."  
  
Eric hung up. Annie hung up as well. The only one left on the line was Ruthie. Slowly, she lowered the phone back on its base and walked back into the room with Sam and David.  
  
So they all knew. All of them. And they were content to sit around and let Ruthie think she was a part of the family.  
  
Ruthie was livid.  
  
She was angry, mostly because it was the strongest emotion she could muster. She couldn't focus. Her mind was a mess. She couldn't think. She was overwhelmed.  
  
_Jenna had done this to her._  
  
It was Jenna's fault.  
  
Upon realizing this, Ruthie decided she needed revenge. Jenna couldn't get away with what she did. Jenna couldn't get away with ruining Ruthie's life. No. Ruthie was going to get revenge.  
  
Retribution.  
  
She demanded retribution.  
  
Of course, this wouldn't be some little 'Jenna is a lesbian' rumor. This wouldn't be attempting to plant a necklace in Jenna's coat. No. This would be real revenge. Cruel revenge. _Evil _revenge.  
  
Ruthie had to do something. She didn't know what she would do, but she had to do something.  
  
She had to get Jenna back for this injustice. No matter what it took.

* * *

That night, the Camdens were stripped down to their bare roots _(metaphorically, of course)._ It was just Eric, Annie, Lucy, Simon, Ruthie, the twins, and the dog.  
  
Everyone knew what the situation was. Everyone was tense. Eric began to speak.  
  
"Ruthie... we know that... you've probably found out that..."  
  
Lucy was crying.  
  
That settled it. Ruthie did _not_ want to be a part of this conversation anymore. She needed to leave. Quickly. Soon, they would all be sobbing. Ruthie hated tears. They were symbols of frailty and vulnerability to her.  
  
"I know." Ruthie said, cutting off her father. "I know I was adopted. But I'm fine with it. I really am. It's okay."  
  
"How can you... possibly be okay with that?" Eric asked.  
  
Ruthie didn't answer at first.  
  
"I'm okay because..." She tried to think up a convincing lie, but obnoxious, sad piano music was playing in the background, distracting her. She looked over—along with the rest of the Camdens—at David, who was lying on the floor, using an electric piano plaything, just trying to demonstrate his talents.  
  
"David, give mommy that." Annie demanded. David obeyed. Ruthie continued.  
  
"I'm okay because... I know you love me." She lied, hardly able to believe herself as she spoke. "I know you love me. You, mom, Simon, Lucy..." Ruthie turned on the waterworks. It was rather easy, considering how much_ real_ crying she had done earlier in the day.  
  
Within moments, Eric and the others were embracing her as she 'sobbed', not having any idea that she was merely putting on a show.  
  
Of course, Ruthie was angry. _Furious_. Hurt. Most of all, she was hurt. She didn't like that feeling. Not at all. Her mind kept on wandering back to the time when Annie lied to her about the pictures. She looked at Annie presently, and found herself hating the woman.  
  
It seemed like Annie could tell, because she next asked:  
  
"Are you angry at us, honey? We would understand if you were."  
  
Ruthie shook her head like a good little girl.  
  
"I'm not angry. Not at you, at least. Jenna, though... I thought we were friends, but..."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about Jenna." Eric began, "You aren't going to have to deal with her anymore. I'll take care of it, okay?"  
  
Ruthie smiled. A genuine smile. She had a feeling she knew what Eric had planned. He may not have been her father, but he certainly came in handy.  
  
Of course, what Eric had planned would be _small _in comparison to what Ruthie wanted to do. Ruthie wanted blood. Ruthie wanted Jenna to suffer.  
  
Ruthie wanted Jenna to die. 


	5. Camden Yards

**

* * *

**

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**PART V**

* * *

**Ruthie's a really sick puppy, isn't she? By the way, I don't own Seventh Heaven. But I do own Jenna. Then again, that's not something to brag about, is it?**

* * *

Ruthie had another idea.  
  
Part one of her plan would involve asking her father for permission to go to the Livingston household.  
  
"I want to give her the opportunity to apologize." She said, sounding as noble as humanly possible.  
  
"Well, that's a nice thing, but... I'm not sure I want you near Jenna."  
  
"But dad, doesn't God always forgive?"  
  
"Yes, but Ruthie—"  
  
"And shouldn't I always try to be more and more like God?"  
  
"Of course, but—"  
  
"So shouldn't I be able to go?"  
  
Eric thought for a moment.  
  
"Why don't I go with you?"  
  
"I want to go alone."  
  
"Ruthie, I'm not comfortable with you doing this. We've been through a lot the last few days. I don't want you getting hurt again."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, dad. I won't get hurt."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that."  
  
"I'll be fine."  
  
"Ruthie—"  
  
"I'm strong, dad. I learned it from you."  
  
_Feed the ego. That's it... get what you want..._  
  
"Just be careful." Eric warned.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Ruthie gave Eric a kiss on the cheek and left.

* * *

Then, she went to the Livingston household. It was a rather uneventful stay.  
  
Ruthie and Jenna exchanged dirty looks. Jenna was forced to apologize to Ruthie.  
  
This made Ruthie very, very happy.

* * *

Ruthie walked into the Camden household, her face tear-streaked and her hands shaking. She perfected this on her way home, so now she looked like she had just seen or experienced something truly horrific.  
  
Eric was concerned as soon as he saw her. His daughter. Shaking, crying. He had no idea she was toying with him.  
  
Eric first asked what happened, even though he had a feeling. Something Jenna did. Or Jenna's parents. The Livingston's seemed like such decent people when they were over for dinner. But Eric always had that feeling that they weren't so decent.  
  
Ruthie responded by taking a deep, ragged breath and saying 'he touched me'.  
  
Eric was immediately enraged. Unlike most times, his anger could be read on his face.  
  
"Who?" He asked, eyes full of fire, heart ready to explode with pure, unadulterated fury.  
  
Ruthie could have laughed. Her father was so _easy_. So _malleable_. She could have told him that rabid wolves tried to eat her and he would believe her. But then again, that was more of a referendum on her ability to mislead, than on his gullibility.  
  
"Mister... Mister Livingston."  
  
Ruthie burst into a fit of tears, falling into her father's arms. She thought she might have been over-acting, but her father bought every minute of it regardless.  
  
Ruthie quickly became bored with this. While manipulating her father's emotions was fun, the real fun would come when Ruthie had Mister Livingston arrested. The Camdens _owned_ Glenoak. Even the Camdens who weren't related by blood. There was no possibility anyone would _ever_ believe _anything_ the patriarch of the Livingston family had to say.  
  
Ruthie was exceptionally happy with this idea. It was so devious. Mr. Livingston hadn't done so much as shake Ruthie's hand when she came over to his house.  
  
Who would believe him? With Ruthie's acting ability and the hatred of the Livingston's factoring in, there was barely a need for a trial.  
  
She smiled behind Eric's back, knowing that the sky was the limit to what she could do... and what she could get away with.  
  
Who could possibly stop her? She may not have been a Camden by blood, but she was a Camden by name.

* * *

It wasn't too long after that Ruthie found herself sitting in front of Detective Michaels, giving him the sickening details of Mr. Livingston's attack on her.  
  
By the end, Detective Michaels was so sickened by the story that he had to take a five-minute break just to be able to breathe again. After all, he watched Ruthie grow up. He was as angry as a family member over what had been done to her.  
  
The whole thing was very emotional for Detective Michaels.  
  
Ruthie found the whole thing quite sad. A grown man becoming so broken up at the very thought of Ruthie being 'touched in her bad place' as he so aptly put it.  
  
Ruthie wanted to roll her eyes. Michaels was a mess.  
  
By the end of the week, the Glenoak Police Department had a warrant out for Mr. Livingston's arrest.  
  
And by midweek, most of the state knew the story. Young girl goes to friend's house and is molested by leering psychopath. Jenna and family vehemently denied that this happened. Of course, nobody cared what they had to say. Mr. Livingston had already been convicted in the court of public opinion.  
  
Public opinion is surprisingly important when considering a trial. After all, one's innocence or guilt is decided by twelve fallible and completely average people.  
  
In the words of one former lawyer, _"Trials are essentially a stage play, where the good actors get off scott-free and the bad actors end up behind bars."  
_  
Mr. Livingston knew this. He also knew he never touched Ruthie Camden before. He barely even looked at her. To be charged with molesting her was ludicrous and ridiculous.  
  
It was a frightening situation for him. He knew that nobody would possibly believe him. He knew that he looked like the bad guy. He knew that even if he was found not guilty, people would still think of him as a sex offender.  
  
This was a bad situation. The Livingston's were progressive, but they were still one of the stereotypical 1950's style "_father brings home the bacon, mother sweeps up the house_" type of families. If the patriarch of the family was put away, the remaining Livingston's would find themselves likely having to sell their house for money, or moving away to a poorer, more affordable part of town.  
  
Ruthie knew all of this. She lapped it up. Everything was absolutely perfect.  
  
Meanwhile, Jenna was angry. There was a strong possibility she would never see her father again. This enraged the girl, who decided to take out her anger with physical force. 


	6. The Vendetta

* * *

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**PART VI**

* * *

**Jenna's a real sick puppy, isn't she? By the way, this is an omage to the short story entitled 'The Vendetta' by Guy de Maupassant. Once again, I don't own 7th Heaven. I don't even watch the WB. Anymore, at least.**

* * *

Time passed.  
  
Jenna got a dog.  
  
Ruthie started wearing her hair in a ponytail.  
  
All of this was very, very important.  
  
Jenna's dog was bought for very interesting reasons. Ruthie's new hairstyle just helped the Livingston Lass along.  
  
The dog was a vicious looking thing. Yellowed eyes, constantly frothing- mouth... it didn't have rabies, but it didn't have any discernable gender either. Jenna didn't care, however. Jenna was going to have fun. Lots and lots of fun.  
  
Jenna named the dog Semillante. When she got it, she decided to keep it inside an overturned clothes hamper in the garage. She fixed the hamper to the ground with stakes and stones and, satisfied with her doggie's prison, went into her house.  
  
The dog began to howl in the night. This was fixed with a muzzle. People wondered what was going on, but after a time, nobody brought it up.  
  
Jenna didn't feed the dog. Strategy, of course.  
  
Days went by. The dog was not fed. It spent most if its time asleep from exhaustion, slowly dying away.  
  
After a week of this, Jenna began to put her plan into action.  
  
It was a Saturday. Jenna searched the garage for one of her oldest toys. It was a 'life-size' _Barbie_ doll. Roughly four feet. Jenna dyed the doll's hair black and slicked it into a ponytail.  
  
Jenna put the doll directly outside the dog's prison.  
  
Her parents didn't take notice. One was in jail (_after being formerly charged with child molestation and being unable to post bail_), and the other was distraught (_after seeing her husband's face after a horrific encounter with his cellmate, Bubba_).  
  
It was easy for Jenna.  
  
After putting the doll outside of the doggie cage, Jenna began to cook. There were still several smoked sausages left in the freezer from a bygone barbeque. Not to mention an abundance of leftover mutton from a long-gone dinner.  
  
Jenna went about cooking these things, spreading the aroma of delicious meat right into the adjacent garage. Of course, the dog smelled these aromas and began to lose sanity. It jumped around, not making a sound because of the muzzle, desperate to eat whatever it was that made that smell.  
  
After cooking the meat, Jenna took the frying pan into the garage and set it down directly in front of the clothes hamper-prison. The dog nearly died from the sensation of starving with food right in front of him.  
  
Jenna covered the doll in the meat. Mutton in the hair, sausage in the hands—there wouldn't be a Barbie left after the dog was done with it.  
  
Carefully, Jenna undid the dog's prison. Semillante didn't even bother trying to bite Jenna. It leapt, with reckless abandon, onto the doll, ripping it apart, scarfing down every single morsel of meat it possibly could.  
  
Jenna watched, motionless and silent, a gleam in her eyes. Then, she trapped the dog again, starved it for a couple more days, and made a repeat performance.  
  
This went on for another fortnight.  
  
At the end of the two weeks, Jenna didn't even have to trap the dog anymore. She even taught Semillante how to devour little Barbie without having to hide food all over the plastic doll.  
  
Not only that, but the dog had a cue now. Whenever Jenna wanted Semillante to attack, she would just say 'Go'.  
  
This was good. This was all good.  
  
During school, one day, Jenna accidentally came across one of Ruthie Camden's scrunchies. It all began when a certain unnamed boy with white-blond hair was found with headlice.  
  
Panic swept through Glenoak. The family of the boy was shunned, and the entire school had to be checked for the dreaded lice. Due to some very strange mix-up of the alphabetical order system, Jenna was checked directly after Ruthie.  
  
As she was being checked, Jenna spotted a green scrunchie, not unlike the ones used by Ruthie Camden. Jenna asked the nurse whose scrunchie it was and was very satisfied by the answer.  
  
"Oh. That must be Ruthie's. Can you give it back to her, please?"  
  
Jenna didn't give it back.  
  
Jenna brought it home with her. She made the dog smell it. At first, she made it smell the scrunchie with some mutton. Then, over the course of a day, she slowly made the dog become accustomed to the smell by removing the mutton over time.  
  
By the end, the dog knew the smell. It knew the smell of Ruthie Camden.  
  
Jenna was very happy about this development.  
  
Ruthie was under the impression that Jenna had given up. The Livingston Lass had been virtually silent the last two weeks. It was bittersweet for Ruthie, however. She enjoyed battling with Jenna.  
  
Jenna, of course, had not given up.  
  
Not at all.  
  
For two days, Jenna starved her dog and forced it to despise the smell of Ruthie. She made the dog associate being starved with the smell of the scrunchie. This was a new thing for Jenna. She had never manipulated the feelings of a _dog_ up to this point.

* * *

It was a Wednesday. Jenna stayed home from school that day. The time was right.  
  
Jenna took the dog for a walk. The dog's mouth foamed. It was biting on Ruthie's scrunchie. Semillante was hungry. Very hungry.  
  
Ruthie was walking home from school with Peter Petrowski. Her parents didn't like the idea of Ruthie walking home by herself. For the first several days after Ruthie was 'touched', they had the police officer, Kevin, walking her home.  
  
After five days of this, Ruthie became tired of it. She asked her parents for another solution. So they made her carry an extra can of Kevin's pepper spray with her. Ruthie liked this. Pepper spray had _very fun_ potential. One day, she very discreetly sprayed it on the bus during a field trip. Even though she ended up coughing and tearing up, it was worth it to have the trip to the _sewage treatment plant_ cancelled.  
  
Nobody found out what she did. That was the most satisfying part of her little plan. Getting away with it.  
  
Ruthie and Peter walked down the street together.

Jenna watched.

She was across the road, hidden in some bushes. She watched intently. The dog could smell Ruthie. It recognized the smell.  
  
Jenna knew this, and she unleashed her little friend.  
  
"Go!" She said, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.


	7. Dog Day Afternoon

**

* * *

**

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**PART VII**

* * *

**I don't own the Camdens. Remember, most teenage girls aren't like this, so there's no reason to avoid them like the plague. In this chapter, things change. A lot. There's a teensy-weensy bit of doggie-on-human violence.**

* * *

Peter took off running before Ruthie even knew what was happening.  
  
She turned around just in time to see a huge, black blur rushing at her.  
  
First, she screamed. It was a long time since she had done that.  
  
Her mind told her not to run. Her brain told her to run for her life.  
  
In seconds, she was running.  
  
Running, running, enticing her enemy.  
  
It barked. She screamed. When it came to fight or flight, she was definitely, most definitely_ FLIGHT_.  
  
Her heart pounded in her ears.  
  
This dog was fast. It was fast, and it was angry. It barked loudly and hoarsely.  
  
She was running down the sidewalk. The dog was gaining on her. She didn't know what to do.  
  
She tried to think clearly, but her instincts were to run screaming. She looked, left and right, up and down, searching—searching for an escape where there were none.  
  
It barked again.  
  
A black bulldog with yellow eyes. _Piercing_ yellow eyes.  
  
She could see her house. It was coming into view. It had been so long since Ruthie had done any kind of aerobic activity, that her chest was burning by the time she neared the Camden's yard.  
  
If she could just make one last huge leap, she would make a narrow escape.  
  
Her narrow escape was thwarted when she tripped over her shoes.  
  
And fell... to the ground.  
  
Semillante leapt on her.  
  
She screamed herself hoarse as the dog tore away at whatever it could. It nearly tore into her neck. Nearly.  
  
It bit into her leg with its razor sharp teeth.  
  
The searing pain knocked the girl unconscious.

* * *

Jenna watched from her hiding spot with glee. Ruthie was getting hers.  
  
_That's what she gets for putting my father in prison._ She thought.  
  
Jenna's joy was cut short, when someone ran over to help. She couldn't figure out who it was. Whoever it was began whaling on poor, poor Semillante, killing it with a frying pan.  
  
Jenna was miffed at the death of her dog. And especially miffed at the saving of little Ruthie Camden.  
  
Everything else became a blur. An ambulance came and carried Ruthie off to the emergency room. Jenna crept away to a safe hideaway, where nobody would find her—or accuse her of anything.

* * *

At the hospital, a severely bruised, beaten and bloodied Ruthie Camden lay in a hospital bed, while the Camden family and several other people close to them, sat in the waiting room. Everyone was crushed and saddened by this terrible development.  
  
First, the poor girl found out she was adopted. Then, a neighbor molested her. And now this? Why, God, why? What kind of sick game is this?  
  
Ruthie was fine. Or, I should say, she _wasn't dead_. Her leg was fractured, just by that one bite by the dog. She had cuts and bruises all over her arms and legs. She had a concussion. She had a sprained wrist from when she tripped. Needless to say, she would probably miss the next couple of days at school.  
  
When the Camden girl woke up, all she could see was white. Of course, this was because she was in the hospital, but it scared her nonetheless. After the first several moments of thinking she was dead, Ruthie realized she was in the hospital. She also realized that most of her body—_even her hair_—hurt.  
  
Her memory was fuzzy. But she knew a dog attacked her. Not only that, but she knew Jenna was behind it. She thought she'd seen Jenna while she walked down the street, but she thought she was wrong. Oh, she was right. And she knew it.  
  
And for the first time ever, Ruthie Camden was _freaked out_, so to speak.  
  
Ruthie's attacks had always been psychological. Jenna crossed the threshold to physical. To dangerous. Ruthie knew she should have been dead. That dog was huge, angry, and ravenous. Ruthie was lucky. Jenna tried to kill her.  
  
Ruthie wanted Jenna to die, but she wasn't going to outwardly attempt it. Jenna... Jenna outwardly attempted it. Jenna tried to kill her.  
  
_Jenna tried to kill her_.

* * *

Days later, Ruthie lay in bed, her leg and wrist both in casts. She had bandages over most of her body, including her head. Ruthie was now at home, after spending three nights in the hospital.  
  
Everyone was worried about her. Whereas she had been strangely unaffected by her adoption and the 'molestation', she was now, well, different. Of course, Ruthie was quick to _feign acceptance_ over the whole adoption saga, and the molestation _never happened_, so she never really showed any emotion over it. However, this was different.  
  
She was freaked out. If Jenna could set a rabid dog on her, what else could she do? Even Ruthie had limits. _Boundaries_. Jenna, obviously, had none of those.

For all Ruthie knew, Jenna would sneak into her bedroom and attempt to kill her.  
  
Which is why Ruthie now slept with the light on.  
  
Ruthie could barely speak, but when she did, she managed to pin the whole thing on Jenna. Of course, the Camdens believed her. The Livingston's were horrible, evil people. _Lesbian-raising, adoption-exposing, child-molesting, rabid-dog-grooming_ demon folk.  
  
Jenna denied setting the dog on Ruthie, when confronted with the allegations.  
  
She said she never owned a dog. She even went so far as to say that she was allergic.  
  
Some then wondered what the howling sounds coming from her house all those weeks ago were.  
  
Jenna responded by saying it was her mother, going through an exceptionally bad night of missing her now jailed husband.  
  
Most didn't believe her.  
  
Meanwhile, Ruthie's voice box, bruised by the dog, was trying to heal. But it wasn't being helped by the fact that Ruthie woke up in the middle-of-the-night, _screaming _half the time. The sight of that black blur rushing at her, teeth bared, haunted her dreams.  
  
Jenna had not only gotten to Ruthie. She had _beaten_ Ruthie. The Camden girl didn't dare mess with the Livingston Lass any longer. She avoided her with _every ounce of power_ she had.

* * *

When Ruthie returned to school, weeks later, arm in a sling and sitting in a wheelchair, Jenna attempted to wish her well. Of course, the only reason Jenna was doing this was so she could get under Ruthie's skin. Get under Ruthie's skin she did, as the Camden girl wheeled away as fast as she could.  
  
Things were looking up for Jenna Livingston. Ruthie had been defeated. The only thing to fix now was her father's criminal status.  
  
That would be simple enough, if things went they way they were supposed to.  
  
Jenna had an idea.  
  
Ruthie was different now. Vulnerable. Jenna would be able to, with the right prodding, force the girl into dropping all charges against her father and admitting to lying.  
  
Or so she thought.

* * *

Jenna confronted Ruthie in the school library.  
  
"Get away from me." Ruthie rasped, a certain type of angry fear developing inside her.  
  
"How's your leg, Ruthie?"  
  
"I said get away from me."  
  
"I'm really sorry about what happened."  
  
Jenna grabbed the back of Ruthie's wheelchair. She began to push the Camden girl around—quite literally.  
  
"How are you doing today, Ruthie?" Jenna asked, knowing Ruthie couldn't protest even if she tried. Her voice was almost completely shot, even a fortnight and a half after the first attack.  
  
Ruthie screamed for help. She tried, at least. It ended up sounding like a whisper.  
  
"Maybe you should..." Jenna whispered, "maybe you should drop the charges against my father. Maybe you should admit that you lied to everyone."  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"There're a lot more dogs in the pound, Ruthie."  
  
"So you _DID_ do it! I knew it! I knew it! You're sick. You're _really_ sick. I could have been killed, you..." Ruthie coughed. Her rasp was full blown now. She could barely manage any more words.  
  
"You'd better tell the truth about my father, Ruthie. _Or else_."  
  
And with that, Jenna left Ruthie. 


	8. Four Simple Rules

* * *

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**PART VIII**

* * *

**Ruthie Camden goes too far. But then again, who's surprised? Peter plays a big role in the chapter, as Ruthie uses the power of (**cough, supressed laugh**)**** seduction to make him do her bidding.**

* * *

In the past two months, Ruthie Camden found out she was adopted, kissed a girl, and was mauled by a dog.  
  
Meanwhile, Jenna Livingston had been ostracized several times in rapid succession for several different crimes, and her father was in prison.  
  
_To think this all started with oatmeal.  
_

* * *

Ruthie wasn't about to give up easily.  
  
She was scared of Jenna.  
  
But she wasn't just going to back down.  
  
No, instead she would fight back. She would match Jenna's insanity with her own brand of insanity. If Jenna was willing to slay Ruthie, then Ruthie was willing to slay Jenna.  
  
Of course, Ruthie was in no position to commit murder, what with her leg and wrist being broken.  
  
She would need someone to do it for her.  
  
So, Ruthie called up her little friend, Peter, and they met together on a warm Saturday night.  
  
Before Peter's arrival, Ruthie made sure she looked as nice as possible.  
  
When Peter arrived at the Camden home, he was surprised, once he reached Ruthie's room, at how attractive she looked, sitting in that wheelchair, arm in a sling, leg in a cast.  
  
He was still amazed Ruthie had forgiven him for running away during the dog attack.  
  
Peter was a fourteen-year-old boy, and fourteen-year-old boys were easy to manipulate.  
  
The master manipulatress taking on a _lowly, hormone-dripping_ teenager. This would be easy.  
  
Ruthie and Peter made sweet, sweet small talk. They had been alone in Ruthie's room before, but this time, Ruthie had something different planned.  
  
After some small talk, Ruthie silently prayed that Peter had brushed his tongue, and then kissed the boy. This wasn't a peck on the cheek. This was a full-on, sickening, open-mouth slather fest.  
  
Once Ruthie and Peter broke apart, the Camden girl could tell that the hormone-dripping teenager was losing that all-important chess match, which was well documented in an episode of **Seinfeld** entitled _"The Nose Job"._  
  
Ruthie smiled at this fact, and took the opportunity to begin her newest, most dangerous plot.  
  
Softly, she asked Peter if he could do her a favor.  
  
Peter nodded violently. Ruthie asked him if he was okay. He said yes, but there was a noticeable amount of drool hanging from his cheek. This, of course, was from the violent nodding he was doing. Not because of Ruthie. Let's be realistic, people.  
  
Ruthie then began detailing her plan.  
  
First, she convinced Peter that Jenna and Mr. Livingston were conspiring to kill her. 

Peter believed her without much hesitation.

_This is easy_, Ruthie thought, _almost too easy._  
  
Then, Ruthie told Peter that if they didn't do something soon, she would be dead. Peter cried for a little, before Ruthie finally managed to calm him down.  
  
"It's alright. It's okay. I won't die... _if you do your part_."  
  
Peter wanted to know what his part would be.  
  
Ruthie let him in on her little scheme.  
  
**Part one** would involve a certain pill.  
  
**Part two** would involve a little accident at the Livingston home.  
  
**Part three** would involve a daring switch.  
  
**Part four** would involve the death of Jenna Livingston.  
  
Ruthie called the plan **'Four Simple Rules For Killing My Teenage Enemy'**  
  
Peter was skeptical at first, until Ruthie let those oh-so-reliable fake tears stream down her face again. She told the boy these simple words: _"I don't want to die, Peter. I have so much to live for. Like you."_  
  
Then, she open-mouth kissed him again.  
  
Peter was all for the idea.  
  
It was all good for Ruthie Camden.

* * *

Ruthie's lack of crutches disturbed her, considering she had a broken leg. The fact that she had to be carried downstairs by Peter did not endear her to her adopted family.  
  
**We won't go into much detail about the disaster that was Peter's attempt to carry Ruthie down the stairs. The event in itself was so catastrophic that it would take another story to document.**  
  
Once Ruthie and Peter cleaned up the broken vase at the bottom of the stairs, and once Peter stopped crying, the two teenagers journeyed into Camden kitchen. Peter, of course, helping Ruthie along. There was no carrying this time. Definitely not.  
  
When Ruthie and Peter arrived back upstairs, they carried with them a little black pill bottle.  
  
Once, during the **Great Glenoak Rains**, the rats came.  
  
The Camdens were forced to buy a certain kind of poison that specialized in snuffing out the rat population.  
  
Rat poison. This particular brand of rat poison, '_Kylthemol_', was indistinguishable. It was white, round, and surprisingly big (considering it was made for rats).  
  
Peter was to take the rat poison and keep it in his pocket. Then, he would go over to the Livingston home, talk with Jenna for a bit, feign a headache, go up to the bathroom, grab a bottle of pills, and make a little switch.  
  
It was perfect. As long as Peter did what he needed to do, at least.  
  
Peter was nervous about the whole thing.  
  
"What Would Jesus Do?" Ruthie asked. "Would he let me die and let the murderers get off scott free? Or would he destroy the evil doers and protect the innocent?"  
  
"Well, when you put it that way..."  
  
"Good."  
  
Ruthie then had Peter spray a bottle of Eric's cologne all over him. The explanation? It would make Jenna's head hurt faster.  
  
Peter was still nervous before he left. Ruthie had a bit more convincing to do.  
  
"Don't you love me, Peter? Aren't we friends?"  
  
"Yes, but... I don't know, Ruthie. _I'm scared_."  
  
Ruthie wanted to smack Peter. She restrained herself.  
  
"Don't be. Just do what you have to do, and remember: God wants you to do this."  
  
The last sentence didn't do much to sell it to Peter.  
  
So, Ruthie said:  
  
"And I don't want to die, Peter."  
  
Then, she kissed him. Again. The power of tongue-on-tongue violence was stunning. Peter nodded and set out to do Ruthie's bidding.  
  
His stench was great and he carried rat poison in his pocket. He was headed off to save his girl and do the work of God.  
  
Ruthie's plan worked surprisingly well.  
  
Peter had done every single thing Ruthie had told him to do. He dotted every 'i', crossed every 't', and Jenna was dead before sunrise.  
  
Perfect.


	9. Winners and Losers

**

* * *

**

**PRINCESS OF DARKNESS**

**PART IX**

* * *

**Ruthie wins... or does she?**

* * *

Ruthie Camden was positively giddy.  
  
First of all, **Jenna was dead**!  
  
Secondly, **Jenna's father was in prison for something she made up**!  
  
Thirdly, **Peter** had been investigated for Jenna's murder, and within hours of the police talking to him, **confessed the whole thing**!  
  
He told the police (i.e., Detective Michaels and Kevin) about what Ruthie had told him, about how Jenna and Mr. Livingston were out to kill her.  
  
Neither Detective Michaels nor Kevin Kinkirk believed him. When confronted about the allegations, Ruthie denied, denied, denied. The little boy with the initials of PP was to be put away for quite sometime.  
  
Charged _as an adult_, no less.  
  
Ruthie was _positively_ giddy.  
  
The Camdens were going to the funeral, of course.  
  
Most people in the town were.  
  
Granted, hardly anyone really liked Jenna, but the manner in which she died **(poisoning!)** was so shocking to the Glenoak residents that they had to go.  
  
Ruthie arrived, in a nice black dress of course, and had to contain her smiles throughout the proceedings.  
  
She wished they would play 'Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead!" but she knew better than to expect that.  
  
And, as Ruthie sat there, in the church, she couldn't help but feel like she had won. Even after all Jenna tried, Ruthie still ended up smelling like a rose. Sure, she was adopted, and had multiple injuries, but all the same, she knew she had won.  
  
_That's what you get, Jenna Livingston, for setting your dog on me._  
  
And more importantly:  
  
_That's what you get, Jenna Livingston, for **dumping oatmeal on my head.**_

* * *

Ruthie was shaken from her thoughts by young Yasmine.  
  
"Ruthie, are you alright?"  
  
Ruthie couldn't help but answer with sarcasm.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
Ruthie sighed to herself, as oatmeal continued to drip off her. She was covered in it, and standing in the boys bathroom. Not only that, but she was only feet away from one of those _most_ disgusting things known as a _urinal_. She had never wanted to see one of these, but the sight of one now assaulted her poor, obstructed eyes.  
  
"You're not going to cry, are you?"  
  
"Of course not." Ruthie said.  
  
Concerned (male) teacher entered the bathroom.  
  
"Miss Camden, are you alright?"  
  
Ruthie answered with a groan.  
  
"Let's get you cleaned up."  
  
Ruthie groaned again. The last thing she wanted to do was to go back into the hallway and face her peers. But, alas, she had no choice. It was either that or stay in the room of the horrifying urinal. Ruthie walked to the concerned teacher, and left the bathroom.  
  
Once outside, she was met with the laughing faces of her peers, including Jenna. She felt like Charlie Brown. She could almost see the words '_ha, ha'_, written in the air above her. **It was the single worst moment of her fourteen-year-old life**.  
  
Jenna, of course, laughed the hardest. She was, after all, the one who set up the prank in the first place.  
  
Ruthie walked through the hallway, as throngs of students laughed at her plight. Several humiliated tears managed to slip past Ruthie's mental goalie, running down her oatmeal-encrusted cheeks like a river.  
  
Concerned teacher gave Ruthie a sympathy pat on the back, as Yasmine whispered words of encouragment, like: 

"Hey, don't worry. In a couple of days, some other kid will pass gas or something, and then they'll laugh at him."

This didn't make Ruthie feel better.  
  
The Camden girl shot a quick glare at Jenna. Needless to say, she was angry.  
  
Mortified.  
  
Humiliated.  
  
Disgraced.  
  
**_Livid_**.  
  
Jenna would pay.  
  
Jenna would _definitely_ pay.

* * *

****

**GAME OVER.**

_Thanks to all those who reviewed. It is now 2:08 in the morning, and I'm still glowing after finding out that Phil Jackson will not be returning as Laker coach next season. That's 95 percent less whining in the NBA coaching fraternity._

_Anyway, it was fun and... rather disturbing to write this story. I hope you all enjoyed it._


End file.
